What's new?
What's the news?
Business is news. News is business.
Business is a vital part of the newsroom. Without it there wouldn’t be any newsroom. Without news, there wouldn’t be any business.
There is a direct, interactive and mutual relationship between news and business.
The world and money revolve on business. It is business that started civilizations and kept them going for centuries. It is business that kept small villages alive and thriving. It is business that keeps our country afloat in the sea of financial crises and economic disasters of our day.
Thus, business is of public interest. It is essential to the public. And the public must know.
It is the job of the business reporter to report and report and report on business. He must not do it in business fashion, but in laymen’s terms and in ways understood by all.
It is a challenge to journalists to write on business topics. Business reporting requires more than just the inverted pyramid and some interview quotes. It calls for math, an understanding of economics and finance, and a mind capable of handling numbers and money and all the necessary values in journalism.
It is a higher form of journalism, if it maybe termed as such, since it calls forth both the right and left hemispheres of the brain. Math is such a challenge for most journalists. Some would retreat at the sight of numbers. Some would scream. But for the brave few, they take the challenge and analyze the numbers and write it in a compelling way to get what the numbers are saying across to people. That is the challenge of business reporting—getting the numbers and analyzing them, and then tell the story they carry in words understandable by those who cannot read numbers.
For the brave few who do it, the economy of the country will always be grateful. Because of them, the nation knows what keeps it afloat in the sea of international debt, financial problems and poverty.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
P-Noy should have been there
The recent hostage-taking crisis in the country really shocked me. Why 11 hours? Why the silliness and seemingly comical techniques of the police? Why the rope to force open the door? Why the little car, not a truck to force open the door? Why did the police arrest the hostage taker’s brother? Why? Why? Why?
But the biggest question on my mind is why did the president do nothing during the crisis?
I am not for the movement that he resigns. I do understand why the Chinese reacted the way they did. They called for resignation because that is an integral part of their culture. I have lived with the Chinese for about two years in their native land and have learned their ways and their language. What happened to the president or what he did is, in Mandarin, very “diu lian.” He lost his face. His face fell. He threw his face.
And you step back when that happens. Or in ancient Chinese culture, you kill yourself. It is similar to the samurai or Kamikaze culture of the Japanese.
The concept of face is very strongly rooted in the Chinese culture. They would rather die than lose face. I understand why they reacted that way especially when there was no strong apology from the president expressing sincere grief. He was caught smiling in some photos.
In a Chinese perspective, the president is “makapal ang mukha.”
But I would rather have a president that other nation’s think to be “makapal ang mukha,” than to have no president at all.
I believe in the careful handling of the issue through proper investigation and prompt action. Prompt action could have saved P-Noy’s face. But the damage has been done. And in Chinese culture, the way you regain face is by submission, down-to-earth humility and a billion apologies.
Or you lose your face forever. Yes, by suicide.
But the biggest question on my mind is why did the president do nothing during the crisis?
I am not for the movement that he resigns. I do understand why the Chinese reacted the way they did. They called for resignation because that is an integral part of their culture. I have lived with the Chinese for about two years in their native land and have learned their ways and their language. What happened to the president or what he did is, in Mandarin, very “diu lian.” He lost his face. His face fell. He threw his face.
And you step back when that happens. Or in ancient Chinese culture, you kill yourself. It is similar to the samurai or Kamikaze culture of the Japanese.
The concept of face is very strongly rooted in the Chinese culture. They would rather die than lose face. I understand why they reacted that way especially when there was no strong apology from the president expressing sincere grief. He was caught smiling in some photos.
In a Chinese perspective, the president is “makapal ang mukha.”
But I would rather have a president that other nation’s think to be “makapal ang mukha,” than to have no president at all.
I believe in the careful handling of the issue through proper investigation and prompt action. Prompt action could have saved P-Noy’s face. But the damage has been done. And in Chinese culture, the way you regain face is by submission, down-to-earth humility and a billion apologies.
Or you lose your face forever. Yes, by suicide.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Hoopster Ain’t Smart: Think Again
Ok. Ready… now pass the ball. To 13. Make a low pose and form the tree. Fast now! The head! The head! Tighter grip. Go for the three D!
Couldn’t understand? Me either.
Imagine being in the heat of a basketball game, sweating and exhausted, the whole crowd booing against you, the 10 second shot clock pressure, the shame of losing the ball on the last few seconds of the game, the possibility of being blamed and shamed if the ball doesn’t go in.
Imagine being there and battling out all the noise, the boos and the yells from the crowd, the sweat and the exhaustion, the stretched muscle, trying to hear the coach’s commands and finding a way to execute them perfectly as ordered.
Playing basketball is not as easy as you think it is. It’s pretty intense stuff.
Imagine all this pressure from the hard court and you still have to think of the homework due midnight after the game at Araneta, the research paper due first thing in the morning, the midterm exam tomorrow afternoon. Welcome to a collegiate baller’s life.
University of the Philippines’ Carlo Gomez admits it’s hard to be a student athlete, especially in a university that lives for the zenith of academic excellence and where sports is considered second class.
But desire kept him going and got him to where he is now, playing in the most prestigious collegiate athletic basketball tournament in the country, the University Athletic Association of the Philippines.
Since he was a kid, Gomez already had a passion for the game. It has always been with him growing up.
When asked about the physical, mental and emotional rigors of collegiate basketball coupled with academic pressure and challenges, he shrugs off his shoulders and says he loves basketball. What else can he do, but play? It’s that simple.
Desire keeps him going.
He loves the game.
He lives for the game.
But his grades must be maintained, lest he becomes ineligible to play. So with a tired and exhausted body, he goes home to burn the midnight oil studying for exams and working on university papers. On the court he burns his rubber soles; on his study table he burns the midnight oil.
That takes a lot of spirit, stamina and courage to handle such stress and pressure. And it does take more than average intellect to handle such challenges and come off victor, winning a game and scoring good grades.
So after every rigorous practice or an exhausting match, he picks up his bag, changes to a clean shirt and goes home ready for another game on the hard court of his study table and books, scoring exams and dunking papers.
Couldn’t understand? Me either.
Imagine being in the heat of a basketball game, sweating and exhausted, the whole crowd booing against you, the 10 second shot clock pressure, the shame of losing the ball on the last few seconds of the game, the possibility of being blamed and shamed if the ball doesn’t go in.
Imagine being there and battling out all the noise, the boos and the yells from the crowd, the sweat and the exhaustion, the stretched muscle, trying to hear the coach’s commands and finding a way to execute them perfectly as ordered.
Playing basketball is not as easy as you think it is. It’s pretty intense stuff.
Imagine all this pressure from the hard court and you still have to think of the homework due midnight after the game at Araneta, the research paper due first thing in the morning, the midterm exam tomorrow afternoon. Welcome to a collegiate baller’s life.
University of the Philippines’ Carlo Gomez admits it’s hard to be a student athlete, especially in a university that lives for the zenith of academic excellence and where sports is considered second class.
But desire kept him going and got him to where he is now, playing in the most prestigious collegiate athletic basketball tournament in the country, the University Athletic Association of the Philippines.
Since he was a kid, Gomez already had a passion for the game. It has always been with him growing up.
When asked about the physical, mental and emotional rigors of collegiate basketball coupled with academic pressure and challenges, he shrugs off his shoulders and says he loves basketball. What else can he do, but play? It’s that simple.
Desire keeps him going.
He loves the game.
He lives for the game.
But his grades must be maintained, lest he becomes ineligible to play. So with a tired and exhausted body, he goes home to burn the midnight oil studying for exams and working on university papers. On the court he burns his rubber soles; on his study table he burns the midnight oil.
That takes a lot of spirit, stamina and courage to handle such stress and pressure. And it does take more than average intellect to handle such challenges and come off victor, winning a game and scoring good grades.
So after every rigorous practice or an exhausting match, he picks up his bag, changes to a clean shirt and goes home ready for another game on the hard court of his study table and books, scoring exams and dunking papers.
The Brain of the Game: The Man Behind UP’s Fighting Maroons
“Let’s go get this done!”
Amidst squeaking sneakers and the smell of sweat from perspired and exhausted ballers, amidst the glare of the spotlight, amidst the cheers and the boos, amidst all the wreck and the havoc under the basket, amidst the missed jumpers, amidst the last second three pointer, amidst all of it, is Coach Aboy Castro’s order.
“Let’s go get this done!”
The brain of the game behind University of the Philippines Fighting Maroons, Coach Aboy Castro is as hot and energized in practice drills as in the hard court of the University Athletic Association of the Philippines (UAAP) basketball tournament.
He prepares the Fighting Maroons for battles in the basketball tournament of UAAP season 73. The pressure is on his shoulders to train the Maroons, and orchestrate the moves, the play, the defense. With his hands on his waist standing as a brave commander watching over his troop of hoop warriors, he directs them to achieve the goal: stop the other team from scoring and get that ball home.
In the heat of the practice, Coach Castro remains calm and cool-headed. Saluting every obedient execution of a play by his troops, he yells “Good! Good!” When players are finally able to orchestrate the plays he draws on his white board, he claps his hands. The hoopsters, like an army, learn to move as one. One team, one move. One team, one play.
There are no individuals on the court. There is no me, only we. There is only the team. Like a troop of cavalry ready to attack and spoil enemy territory, they practice shooting and offense. Like a fleet of navy ships guarding the coast from enemy invasion, they learn defensive tactics to keep the opponent’s basket from swallowing the ball.
Others, even players, never see the game the way a coach sees it. He sees the whole dance of the game. He sees the team as one. He treats them as one: an army of orchestrated blocks, passes, shots. He knows every player’s strengths and weaknesses. He matches them and blends them together the way one blends different fruits to make four seasons shake.
In the end of a practice, he gathers his players around for last minute instructions and to utter a prayer. He picks up his bag and looks up his cellphone to read messages he missed. He leaves the arena first and stops at the crucifix, looks up at the Lord’s statue, touches his knee and makes the sign of the cross.
“(We need) better defense. 12 more games to go,” he said. The Maroons are up against University of Santo Tomas Growling Tigers tomorrow.
And with his hopes and prayers, he goes home.
Tomorrow will just be another day at the gym.
“Let’s go get this done!”
Amidst squeaking sneakers and the smell of sweat from perspired and exhausted ballers, amidst the glare of the spotlight, amidst the cheers and the boos, amidst all the wreck and the havoc under the basket, amidst the missed jumpers, amidst the last second three pointer, amidst all of it, is Coach Aboy Castro’s order.
“Let’s go get this done!”
The brain of the game behind University of the Philippines Fighting Maroons, Coach Aboy Castro is as hot and energized in practice drills as in the hard court of the University Athletic Association of the Philippines (UAAP) basketball tournament.
He prepares the Fighting Maroons for battles in the basketball tournament of UAAP season 73. The pressure is on his shoulders to train the Maroons, and orchestrate the moves, the play, the defense. With his hands on his waist standing as a brave commander watching over his troop of hoop warriors, he directs them to achieve the goal: stop the other team from scoring and get that ball home.
In the heat of the practice, Coach Castro remains calm and cool-headed. Saluting every obedient execution of a play by his troops, he yells “Good! Good!” When players are finally able to orchestrate the plays he draws on his white board, he claps his hands. The hoopsters, like an army, learn to move as one. One team, one move. One team, one play.
There are no individuals on the court. There is no me, only we. There is only the team. Like a troop of cavalry ready to attack and spoil enemy territory, they practice shooting and offense. Like a fleet of navy ships guarding the coast from enemy invasion, they learn defensive tactics to keep the opponent’s basket from swallowing the ball.
Others, even players, never see the game the way a coach sees it. He sees the whole dance of the game. He sees the team as one. He treats them as one: an army of orchestrated blocks, passes, shots. He knows every player’s strengths and weaknesses. He matches them and blends them together the way one blends different fruits to make four seasons shake.
In the end of a practice, he gathers his players around for last minute instructions and to utter a prayer. He picks up his bag and looks up his cellphone to read messages he missed. He leaves the arena first and stops at the crucifix, looks up at the Lord’s statue, touches his knee and makes the sign of the cross.
“(We need) better defense. 12 more games to go,” he said. The Maroons are up against University of Santo Tomas Growling Tigers tomorrow.
And with his hopes and prayers, he goes home.
Tomorrow will just be another day at the gym.
“Let’s go get this done!”
TRANSLATION: Science
Science. Writing. Is. Translating.
When will everybody understand science? I imagine scientists scratching their almost bald head whenever they are fielded grade school questions from grown ups. I hope it does not frustrate scientists that most people really cannot understand or do not have a great interest towards science.
A factor of this is that scientists often cannot or do not tanslate the language of science into words laymen use and understand.
I really believe scientists must be good communicators too. Unless they can take what it is in their minds and transform it into communicable and understandable structures of words and sentences, then science really needs help. That is where science journalists come in.
Writing about science is translating. As an interpreter of the Chinese language, I see no difference between my job (my little enterprise of translation services in Chinese) and that of a writer writing about science.
As with translation, the writer needs to be familiar and understand both languages he is working on: the scientific and the mundane, the elaborate mathematical formula and the simple sentence.
Translation is very important in business, politics and almost every aspect of social life. Without translation, people will never understand each other. Without translation, globalization could not have occurred. Thus it is with the world, so it is with science.
Writing about science is worth any writer’s time and attention. It is a challenge, of course to learn a scientific subject well enough to tell it in words that laymen can and will understand. And most importantly, it is every writer’s job to make something of importance known. Science definitely is something of importance that it shapes our present society and draws the path of our future.
And making that known to everyone is something a writer’s duty inherently entails: to make know, to inform, to educate.
Science writers do that by translation.
When will everybody understand science? I imagine scientists scratching their almost bald head whenever they are fielded grade school questions from grown ups. I hope it does not frustrate scientists that most people really cannot understand or do not have a great interest towards science.
A factor of this is that scientists often cannot or do not tanslate the language of science into words laymen use and understand.
I really believe scientists must be good communicators too. Unless they can take what it is in their minds and transform it into communicable and understandable structures of words and sentences, then science really needs help. That is where science journalists come in.
Writing about science is translating. As an interpreter of the Chinese language, I see no difference between my job (my little enterprise of translation services in Chinese) and that of a writer writing about science.
As with translation, the writer needs to be familiar and understand both languages he is working on: the scientific and the mundane, the elaborate mathematical formula and the simple sentence.
Translation is very important in business, politics and almost every aspect of social life. Without translation, people will never understand each other. Without translation, globalization could not have occurred. Thus it is with the world, so it is with science.
Writing about science is worth any writer’s time and attention. It is a challenge, of course to learn a scientific subject well enough to tell it in words that laymen can and will understand. And most importantly, it is every writer’s job to make something of importance known. Science definitely is something of importance that it shapes our present society and draws the path of our future.
And making that known to everyone is something a writer’s duty inherently entails: to make know, to inform, to educate.
Science writers do that by translation.
Knowing the Structure
So I came back after five semesters. And yes my brain cells have forgotten how to smell the news.
It’s been five long semesters since I last wrote a news story. Now the chance is here.
I listened. I wrote. And viola! My first speech story for three years!
I sat there in class wondering how I did. Our professor gave back my copy. There were no marks in it. And then it struck me: I need to learn how to spot the news again.
It was a reawakening of what I had learned in the past. Spotting the news in an event is not easy task. It requires logic and reasoning. I have learned from this recent experience how to really write.
First a writer must learn the conventions of the genre he is using. And he must first learn to master those conventions or rules before he can look for exceptions and slip through the loopholes. Mastering the rule makes a writer eligible to break it. It does not mean that he breaks it for the sake of showing angst or being deviant. He breaks it to express more clearly something that writing in the rules cannot express at all.
In the end, it still goes back to the main purpose of writing: to communicate clearly. And breaking writing conventions and rules before mastering them does otherwise.
It’s been five long semesters since I last wrote a news story. Now the chance is here.
I listened. I wrote. And viola! My first speech story for three years!
I sat there in class wondering how I did. Our professor gave back my copy. There were no marks in it. And then it struck me: I need to learn how to spot the news again.
It was a reawakening of what I had learned in the past. Spotting the news in an event is not easy task. It requires logic and reasoning. I have learned from this recent experience how to really write.
First a writer must learn the conventions of the genre he is using. And he must first learn to master those conventions or rules before he can look for exceptions and slip through the loopholes. Mastering the rule makes a writer eligible to break it. It does not mean that he breaks it for the sake of showing angst or being deviant. He breaks it to express more clearly something that writing in the rules cannot express at all.
In the end, it still goes back to the main purpose of writing: to communicate clearly. And breaking writing conventions and rules before mastering them does otherwise.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Writing is Courting
Writing is just like courting the woman of your dreams. You try to find the right words, the right phrases, the right idioms, the right rhythm of ideas and meaning.
Sometimes, the words don’t turn out the way we mean or intend them to be. You try to speak the right words and often end up conveying the wrong message; and thus, the woman leaves you. And you find yourself back in square one on the dating game.
That is writing. You can never court the right words all the time. But you can at least try knowing who it is you are courting those words for.
Really, knowing the audience is the beginning of writing for understanding. It is the beginning of really taking a concept and expressing it to another in ways so clear no one can misunderstand. That, after all, is the end goal of writing: to express and to make understood, and to be understood so clearly the misunderstanding itself vanishes.
The more a writer knows about the audience, the more can he write and be understood. It is really just like courting. The more you know, the more chances you have of winning the woman of your dreams. So it is with audiences.
Sometimes, the words don’t turn out the way we mean or intend them to be. You try to speak the right words and often end up conveying the wrong message; and thus, the woman leaves you. And you find yourself back in square one on the dating game.
That is writing. You can never court the right words all the time. But you can at least try knowing who it is you are courting those words for.
Really, knowing the audience is the beginning of writing for understanding. It is the beginning of really taking a concept and expressing it to another in ways so clear no one can misunderstand. That, after all, is the end goal of writing: to express and to make understood, and to be understood so clearly the misunderstanding itself vanishes.
The more a writer knows about the audience, the more can he write and be understood. It is really just like courting. The more you know, the more chances you have of winning the woman of your dreams. So it is with audiences.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Reading is Writing: Writing is Reading
Writers play with words. They use words to convey; to convince; to communicate. It is by reading that a writer buds into someone who knows words and knows how to use them the way they are created for: enlightening the intellect, inspiring the human mind.
For by reading, we learn how words dance and fit together in an orchestra of ideas and alphabetical and grammatical constructs. It is by observing how words are used to convey certain meanings and ideas that we learn how to use them to convey our own meanings and ideas.
Just like Michael Silverblaat, we will gain a wider perspective and deeper sensibilities if we read—if we take a lot of time to read. Silverblaat makes preparation a priority in his job as a radio host. He learns about his program guests before he interviews them. Preparation brings power and preparation in writing is reading.
Writing science articles requires a lot of reading on the part of the journalist. Science topics are naturally comprehensive and very technical in nature that journalists need to read and learn about the topic as much as they can. John Taylor once said, “It is pure intelligence for a man to take a subject mysterious in itself and unfold it so a child can understand.” That is what science writers do. And for them to do that they must understand the subject they are writing about.
The more we know about a subject or an idea, the more clearly we can express it to others. In the article “You Can’t Fight Violence With Violence” (http://www.newscientist.com/article/mg20727684.700-you-cant-fight-violence-with-violence.html), the understanding of the writer is very evident from the comprehensive coverage and completeness of the topic. This understanding, expressed in clear and simple language gave me understanding of the topic at hand.
The more we read, the more we can write. The more we understand, the more we can help others understand.
For by reading, we learn how words dance and fit together in an orchestra of ideas and alphabetical and grammatical constructs. It is by observing how words are used to convey certain meanings and ideas that we learn how to use them to convey our own meanings and ideas.
Just like Michael Silverblaat, we will gain a wider perspective and deeper sensibilities if we read—if we take a lot of time to read. Silverblaat makes preparation a priority in his job as a radio host. He learns about his program guests before he interviews them. Preparation brings power and preparation in writing is reading.
Writing science articles requires a lot of reading on the part of the journalist. Science topics are naturally comprehensive and very technical in nature that journalists need to read and learn about the topic as much as they can. John Taylor once said, “It is pure intelligence for a man to take a subject mysterious in itself and unfold it so a child can understand.” That is what science writers do. And for them to do that they must understand the subject they are writing about.
The more we know about a subject or an idea, the more clearly we can express it to others. In the article “You Can’t Fight Violence With Violence” (http://www.newscientist.com/article/mg20727684.700-you-cant-fight-violence-with-violence.html), the understanding of the writer is very evident from the comprehensive coverage and completeness of the topic. This understanding, expressed in clear and simple language gave me understanding of the topic at hand.
The more we read, the more we can write. The more we understand, the more we can help others understand.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Saving Science
Science really has its peculiarities. There are a billion things in this world that are fascinating. Science is the method we use to discover those billion other things. But in the course of it all, I realized science can have a challenge in telling us laymen what it discovers.
Sometimes, science just doesn’t know how to tell a good story. Well, at least some scientists, if not most of them. It has all the elements it needs: action, drama, suspense. But somehow, it often misses the whole point of telling a story.
“Realities in RP Science” did a good job of telling by its structure and style of writing the reason people don’t read science stories: the narrative is boring, boring, boring. There is no flavour: it is outright bland. The first sentence sends me a chill: boring; can’t relate; don’t care anyway.
The other three articles have done a great job of really telling a story. They all incorporate in the story all the elements each topic has: drama, suspense, action.
Science is very interesting. It is with the telling that scientists do a disservice to science: they sometimes just cannot tell a good story. Thanks to skilled science writers, there is a way to save science and make it interesting as it really is.
Sometimes, science just doesn’t know how to tell a good story. Well, at least some scientists, if not most of them. It has all the elements it needs: action, drama, suspense. But somehow, it often misses the whole point of telling a story.
“Realities in RP Science” did a good job of telling by its structure and style of writing the reason people don’t read science stories: the narrative is boring, boring, boring. There is no flavour: it is outright bland. The first sentence sends me a chill: boring; can’t relate; don’t care anyway.
The other three articles have done a great job of really telling a story. They all incorporate in the story all the elements each topic has: drama, suspense, action.
Science is very interesting. It is with the telling that scientists do a disservice to science: they sometimes just cannot tell a good story. Thanks to skilled science writers, there is a way to save science and make it interesting as it really is.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Sekyu: Life of the Calm-headed Guard
I never really thought of seeing him again. Yes, him. And his pistol, his handcuffs, his flashlight. Yes, him. And his uniform, his badge, his desk, his radio, his fan, his No-ID-No-Entry sign.
Mang Boy is still there—his desk and fan and radio to keep him awake through his night shift as security guard of the University of the Philippines Faculty Center. I saw him and struck up a conversation with this classic figure of authority, someone I always saw since my freshman year. I was lucky to have known his name this time—I finally had the courage to ask him despite his colossal, imposing figure.
With a warm smile that can tear through a wall as much as his knuckles can break fist-fights, he surprised me with the kind friendliness he displayed as he let me sit and chat with him. He never even asked to see my ID. He was, by the way the meanest, fiercest guard to strictly implement the no ID, no entry policy when it was first done in the UP campus. His smile tore down every memory I had of him.
So I sat with him, watching the janitors sweep the floor in the early morning before students start coming in.
As I guarded the building with him, I saw a different man. I saw Mang Boy, not the security guard, but the man he is.
Manning a building is no joke especially at night and in an area with fratmen ever busy to wreck frat-wars. Surprisingly, he responds with a coolness and a calm displayed by the jaded. But Mang Boy is not hopeless. The calm he has comes from just being calm himself.
As I sat at his guard post, I saw how calm and peaceful a security guard’s life is. The fan was buzzing and blowing the refreshing air caressing the skin to an almost lullaby-like aura ready to lull one to sleep. The radio was on and the ceaseless chatter of the announcer was dimmed by the silence of the early morning as students start to pile in. The desk was large enough to hold a dinner for a family of four and even fit in a few more visitors.
Imagine getting paid to sit and listen to the rhythm of feet falling to the ground in the busy goings of scholars; to watch the beauty of the early morning sun rising through the smog and mists of the previous night; to smell the graciously endowed fragrance of flowers in the little garden just outside the desk where the log book lies silent through the night; to think of how beautiful life is and how magical it is to be alive sitting on a desk, guarding, watching through the night till the cock crows.
Mang Boy really loves manning the gate of the faculty center. “Sikat talaga pagka UP. Kaya pati guwardya sa UP sikat.” And sure enough, everybody knows him: the authoritative guard, the silent sentinel guarding the books and things pertaining to scholarly things when things scholarly and scholars sleep through the night.
The usual ups and downs of the job do not even create a stir in his soul. He admits being nervous whenever something in the night stirs his senses to an alertness only a dedicated guard knows. But these things in the end do not matter. As a pillar he stands still, unmoved.
I ask him how he feels after successfully busting a crime or stopping the usual fraternity-related fistfights in the university. He shrugs off my question and just tells me, “Wala lang.” And he goes home, ready to listen to more radio and get some sleep.
Mang Boy is still there—his desk and fan and radio to keep him awake through his night shift as security guard of the University of the Philippines Faculty Center. I saw him and struck up a conversation with this classic figure of authority, someone I always saw since my freshman year. I was lucky to have known his name this time—I finally had the courage to ask him despite his colossal, imposing figure.
With a warm smile that can tear through a wall as much as his knuckles can break fist-fights, he surprised me with the kind friendliness he displayed as he let me sit and chat with him. He never even asked to see my ID. He was, by the way the meanest, fiercest guard to strictly implement the no ID, no entry policy when it was first done in the UP campus. His smile tore down every memory I had of him.
So I sat with him, watching the janitors sweep the floor in the early morning before students start coming in.
As I guarded the building with him, I saw a different man. I saw Mang Boy, not the security guard, but the man he is.
Manning a building is no joke especially at night and in an area with fratmen ever busy to wreck frat-wars. Surprisingly, he responds with a coolness and a calm displayed by the jaded. But Mang Boy is not hopeless. The calm he has comes from just being calm himself.
As I sat at his guard post, I saw how calm and peaceful a security guard’s life is. The fan was buzzing and blowing the refreshing air caressing the skin to an almost lullaby-like aura ready to lull one to sleep. The radio was on and the ceaseless chatter of the announcer was dimmed by the silence of the early morning as students start to pile in. The desk was large enough to hold a dinner for a family of four and even fit in a few more visitors.
Imagine getting paid to sit and listen to the rhythm of feet falling to the ground in the busy goings of scholars; to watch the beauty of the early morning sun rising through the smog and mists of the previous night; to smell the graciously endowed fragrance of flowers in the little garden just outside the desk where the log book lies silent through the night; to think of how beautiful life is and how magical it is to be alive sitting on a desk, guarding, watching through the night till the cock crows.
Mang Boy really loves manning the gate of the faculty center. “Sikat talaga pagka UP. Kaya pati guwardya sa UP sikat.” And sure enough, everybody knows him: the authoritative guard, the silent sentinel guarding the books and things pertaining to scholarly things when things scholarly and scholars sleep through the night.
The usual ups and downs of the job do not even create a stir in his soul. He admits being nervous whenever something in the night stirs his senses to an alertness only a dedicated guard knows. But these things in the end do not matter. As a pillar he stands still, unmoved.
I ask him how he feels after successfully busting a crime or stopping the usual fraternity-related fistfights in the university. He shrugs off my question and just tells me, “Wala lang.” And he goes home, ready to listen to more radio and get some sleep.
Talking to YOU
Reaction about the articles “Big Phone, Big Screen, Big Pleasure,” “How I Used Twitter to Live-Blog the Opera,” “Riding the Rails of Malaysia, in Singapore,” “The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved,” and “The String Theory”
It is paramount that I talk to YOU. Yes YOU. Nobody, nobody, but YOU.
Writing takes a great deal of thinking about who I am talking to.
The articles listed show a wonderful work of really talking to the reader on a personal level. They all have one thing in common: talking openly and personally to the reader. This technique is very helpful in writing. It takes the reader on a different plane and literally tells him he is important and valued. It shows confidence on the part of the writer in himself and his experiences and also to the reader, the recipient of all the information on a personal level.
As a reader of these articles, it empowered me to know that the writer really is talking to me. I felt it. And it made me soar with the ideas, the places, the people in words written.
A very striking technique used is the asking of questions on a personal level to begin the narrative. This, coupled with engaging writing, brought all these stories to really talk to me, the reader. The words spoke to me; nobody but me. And for that I am grateful.
It is paramount that I talk to YOU. Yes YOU. Nobody, nobody, but YOU.
Writing takes a great deal of thinking about who I am talking to.
The articles listed show a wonderful work of really talking to the reader on a personal level. They all have one thing in common: talking openly and personally to the reader. This technique is very helpful in writing. It takes the reader on a different plane and literally tells him he is important and valued. It shows confidence on the part of the writer in himself and his experiences and also to the reader, the recipient of all the information on a personal level.
As a reader of these articles, it empowered me to know that the writer really is talking to me. I felt it. And it made me soar with the ideas, the places, the people in words written.
A very striking technique used is the asking of questions on a personal level to begin the narrative. This, coupled with engaging writing, brought all these stories to really talk to me, the reader. The words spoke to me; nobody but me. And for that I am grateful.
Painting a Picture: Engaging the Audience
Reaction to the articles “The LittleThe Biggest Little Man in the World,” “Author Nicholas Carr: The Web Shatters Focus, Rewires Brains,” “The Networker,” and “Oprah Talks to Ellen DeGeneres”
You need a paintbrush to write. The pen is simply not enough.
Painting a picture and not merely telling is a very exceptional skill to have as a writer.
The ultimate satisfaction of writing is taking the reader with you into the minds of people, the lives of the subjects, the heart of ideas and discovery, the interesting niches of places and things.
The articles all show a great mastery of the art of painting a picture rather than telling a story. Although The Web Shatters Focus is a factual and a technical article, it employs writing and literary techniques that helps the average reader enjoy and really understand a subject as complex as the human brain and the Internet.
Overall, these articles display a wonderfully crafted structure that shows the authors’ mastery of the craft of telling a story by painting a picture and taking the reader into the story. Reading these articles left me wondering how beautiful and wonderfully awesome the world we live in. they awakened in me an inner sense of my being and a deeper appreciation of life and the diversity and beauty of the world I live in.
You need a paintbrush to write. The pen is simply not enough.
Painting a picture and not merely telling is a very exceptional skill to have as a writer.
The ultimate satisfaction of writing is taking the reader with you into the minds of people, the lives of the subjects, the heart of ideas and discovery, the interesting niches of places and things.
The articles all show a great mastery of the art of painting a picture rather than telling a story. Although The Web Shatters Focus is a factual and a technical article, it employs writing and literary techniques that helps the average reader enjoy and really understand a subject as complex as the human brain and the Internet.
Overall, these articles display a wonderfully crafted structure that shows the authors’ mastery of the craft of telling a story by painting a picture and taking the reader into the story. Reading these articles left me wondering how beautiful and wonderfully awesome the world we live in. they awakened in me an inner sense of my being and a deeper appreciation of life and the diversity and beauty of the world I live in.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Letters to Gracielle: The Journalist as a Family Man
the 19th of June 2010
Dear Gracielle,
Thank you for letting me drive the truck this morning—that maroon pick-up we always used to navigate the mountains when we lived in Baguio. I remember you asked me a poignant question: “Do journalists usually have happy families? They often seem to be on the rush and do not seem to have time for themselves and probably their families.”
Remember how I told you with that blank, I-dunno, not-quite-sure look, that I don’t know; maybe not. See I never really met a journalist who openly told me that what matters most to him is his family. They do not seem to openly talk about it.
But finally, I am in a class with a caliber editor (he is he country editor of Yahoo Philippines) who openly told me his main goal in life is to make his family happy. Most journalism professors just talk about how journalism should be revolutionized, or about how bad the corruption in the profession is. At least that is my impression from those that I am privileged to meet.
Wearing jeans and a shirt, he looked just like any other journalist I knew. With a black frame for his glasses, he looked just like a rock star and a geek at the same time. Well, he must have been a geek—I mean, he is very techy. He said he loves to write about technologies and innovations.
He has achieved much in his career. Imagine being the country editor of Yahoo Philippines. You must know how big “country editor” means. He is big time.
But it is not his achievements that matter most to him. He told me it was seeing his family happy.
Now that is good, sound advice for the two of us. Since we were in the adolescent stage of our wonderful life, we have always been talking about marriage. It seems that as I talked to him I get the affirmation of what we have been taught since we were young—No other success can compensate for the failure in the home. Maybe he can join our club. Do you think I should ask him?
He has sound advice for us, I mean for marriage. Just do it, he said. Now that is really strange, isn’t it cousin? Remember how we often get discouragement from intellectuals whenever we tell them we want to be married?
He also gave me a glimpse of how it is to be a father. By the way he has two daughters, one’s 8 and the other’s 9. While I was talking with him, I saw him breathe an air of responsibility and an air of cool-headed gentlemanliness. I am led to believe that commitment, responsibility and fun make a good dad.
I’ve learned more things he did not intend to teach the class. I went there to learn how to write for popular audiences but I learned something more valuable than a writing skill to peddle in the market someday. I learned and had a glimpse of how it is to be a journalist and a father at the same time—and to excel in both and to never compromise.
I bet his wife, Myra, is very happy with his achievements and how he seeks for the happiness of their family. He has other plans and goals—like be a rock star, yes cousin, he is the lead guitarist of his band. But then all of those do not matter. What matters most to him is what matters most to us: family happiness.
Well, it is time for me to travel home now. I will write you more about what happens in our class. And maybe he will teach me more about marriage and journalism next time.
Till next mail cousin,
Royce Jr.
PS: He is Erwin Oliva. Just check facebook. He is bound to have one. :)
NBA Finals Fuss
It started when I was on a bus bound to UP: happy to come back to the university after a five semester break and volunteer work. The man peddling bottled water and C2 suddenly erupted with excitement and told everybody what the score was. "Lamang na! Lamang na! Yessss!"
I was enjoying the flickering images of yellow and green jerseys jumping up and down the TV screen, running after a ball. I recognized it was the Lakers (I love them just because Kobe Bryant happens to endorse Nike) and the Celtics (I only know they like green; I don't even know what thier name means). Then another yell: "Lamang na naman! Ayos! Wala na to!"
Now for a working student who has only time for school and my 5 to 6 hour shift Mondays to Saturdays, I really have no luxury, as the water peddler had, to put my mind on the NBA. Thanks to the bus TV I had a chance to watch something that my co-teachers were talking about when it's breaktime at work.
So much for the social lubricant it served, it also helped me get a glimpse of who's who in the NBA nowadays.
See, the last time I devoutly watched NBA was in the late 90's when John Stockton of the Jazz always showcased his short shorts and went with lay-up shots againts the Bulls. Well, it was the glory days of Michael Jordan, too. I remember him making a billion jumpshots and slams, while sticking his tongue out just like a bull thirsty for a trophy.
So far, the Lakers-Celtics rivalry seems to be of some importance that my uncle's factory watched it religiously, even to the point of him as the president ordering everybody in the workforce to stop work and man the TV sets instead. Now that was something my aunt never understood--so did I.
I ended up asking my friends what made this NBA finals so special. They told me it was the first time after a very very long time that the finals reached to game 7. Now the last time I ever remember that happening was when the Jazz went against the Bulls.
Whew! No wonder my uncle had everyone in his factory stop and watch the game. Now that leaves me wondering as to what people are willing to pay for a basketball game.
I guess that just tells me how Filipinos really love the orange ball going through the hoop.
Well, the Lakers won. Hurrah for Kobe! Hurrah! People lost money in bets, some gained some, some lost some. Some gained extra weight by sitting too much in front of the TV; some gained new hoop tricks to practice; some lost precious hours at work; some gained more hours at work. Some gained some; some lose some.
As for me, I take the safe side: school and work, school and work. I still have papers to write, lesson plans to prepare, books to read and homework to complete.
But I am happy Kobe's team won. I really like his Nike posters.
I was enjoying the flickering images of yellow and green jerseys jumping up and down the TV screen, running after a ball. I recognized it was the Lakers (I love them just because Kobe Bryant happens to endorse Nike) and the Celtics (I only know they like green; I don't even know what thier name means). Then another yell: "Lamang na naman! Ayos! Wala na to!"
Now for a working student who has only time for school and my 5 to 6 hour shift Mondays to Saturdays, I really have no luxury, as the water peddler had, to put my mind on the NBA. Thanks to the bus TV I had a chance to watch something that my co-teachers were talking about when it's breaktime at work.
So much for the social lubricant it served, it also helped me get a glimpse of who's who in the NBA nowadays.
See, the last time I devoutly watched NBA was in the late 90's when John Stockton of the Jazz always showcased his short shorts and went with lay-up shots againts the Bulls. Well, it was the glory days of Michael Jordan, too. I remember him making a billion jumpshots and slams, while sticking his tongue out just like a bull thirsty for a trophy.
So far, the Lakers-Celtics rivalry seems to be of some importance that my uncle's factory watched it religiously, even to the point of him as the president ordering everybody in the workforce to stop work and man the TV sets instead. Now that was something my aunt never understood--so did I.
I ended up asking my friends what made this NBA finals so special. They told me it was the first time after a very very long time that the finals reached to game 7. Now the last time I ever remember that happening was when the Jazz went against the Bulls.
Whew! No wonder my uncle had everyone in his factory stop and watch the game. Now that leaves me wondering as to what people are willing to pay for a basketball game.
I guess that just tells me how Filipinos really love the orange ball going through the hoop.
Well, the Lakers won. Hurrah for Kobe! Hurrah! People lost money in bets, some gained some, some lost some. Some gained extra weight by sitting too much in front of the TV; some gained new hoop tricks to practice; some lost precious hours at work; some gained more hours at work. Some gained some; some lose some.
As for me, I take the safe side: school and work, school and work. I still have papers to write, lesson plans to prepare, books to read and homework to complete.
But I am happy Kobe's team won. I really like his Nike posters.
Monday, June 21, 2010
A Monday to Remember
Finally, a time for TV.
I told myself after I got back in the country from a two-year stay in Taiwan that I will not watch TV anymore. Blame the bus I was stuck in this time: yes, the ever-hungry-for-passengers bus in the metro. The TV screen was flickering with images of Mike Enriquez with that nasal "Ghoo...goood ibning poh!"
I ended up watching the TV anyway, rationalizing I need news bits at least to be sane in my journalism classes this semester. I actually love the classes I have this semester.
I was really wondering whatever happened to our prime time TV news. It was full of crime reports. Mr. Business and Mr. Government were benched three quaters of game time, while MVP Crime News gets all the cheers and the time to make hoops and win advertising contracts for the news program. Hurrah! Here comes Crime News delivering a killer jumper and it went in! Folks we have a champ--blood and suspense, blood and more blood.
Disgusting.
It was really a great time watching the news: blood and blood and more blood; crime, crime and more crime. No wonder kids learn how to play with toy guns and toy knives faster than they can red or write. Yes, the TV is infecting the public with what it says and portrays. But hey, TV needs food. And apparently, crime news--an overdose of it--puts more food on TV's plate.
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